Gift
by hellorojo
Summary: I know what you can give me for my birthday." Draco helps Pansy celebrate her seventeenth birthday. A little bit of smut, DxP.


_Harry Potter _and all of its characters don't belong to me.  
But this thing does. So don't steal this shit.

**"GIFT"**

She looked absolutely ridiculous and she knew it, but most people knew better than to mention anything about it. An insult directed towards Pansy Parkinson meant that her nails would either lodge themselves into your skin or that she'd sick one of her much larger, much more dangerous male friends on you without so much as a moment's hesitation. People knew this fairly well, as she'd made sure that she got the respect that she wanted and that she deserved, goddamnit.

She was, after all, the resident queen.

Now in her seventh year of schooling, she had managed to gain even more control over the student body since discovering that she had a certain sex appeal that she hadn't known about – or at least noticed – before, and since she'd figured out that being a huge fucking cocktease would have men falling over themselves to try and get into her favor. She may not have been the prettiest of the bunch, with her chin-length black bob and her ever-narrowed blue eyes and the harsh angles of her cheeks and jaw, but she knew damn well how to manipulate others and did a very nice job if she could say so herself.

But the point is that no one dared say anything to her as she sat casually in the Slytherin common room, thin legs crossed in a distinctly ladylike manner, her posture as absolutely perfect as ever. She was wearing a large yellow paper crown with the words "MOTHERFUCKING PRINCESS" scrawled over its perimeter in big blocky letters, and she held in her hand a large scepter encrusted with diamonds, something fit for a queen. In addition, Pansy had decided that she should borrow some of Daphne's lingerie – it would be perhaps a size too large on her, but all of Daphne's unmentionables were provocative enough to make Pansy look at least the least bit sexy – and so she wore a pink silk teddy as she sat on the couch, flipping idly through fashion magazines and smirking whenever anyone would look at her for too long.

She did it, of course, for the attention, but in her mind her actions were incredibly justified. After all, it was her fucking birthday, and she'd do whatever the fuck she wanted. And if that included spending the evening draped out across the couch in sexy underwear and an oversized crown made of yellow cardboard that Daphne had fashioned for her as a bit of a surprise, she would damn well do it.

And so she did. She stayed there all night, acknowledging her peers with a nod of her head or a queenly wave of her diamond scepter. In spite of the stares she got from occasional passers-by, she kept a perfectly straight face, acting as though this was something completely routine, completely normal. She shared a few glasses of wine with Blaise in front of the warm fire and he informed her that Miss So-And-So, a sixth year Ravenclaw, had sucked his cock earlier in the week and it had been absolutely _terrible_. Pansy vowed to spread horrible rumors about her and in spite of his stoic manner Blaise had cracked the slightest of half-smiles.

When he grew too tired to stay up any longer – it must have been two in the morning by this point, though Pansy could have cared less, because as far as she was concerned it was her birthday until the sun came up – he kissed the top of her hand and wished her a very happy birthday before heading towards the boys dormitories. Pansy smiled a little, bringing her glass of wine to her lips and downing the rest of it, wincing slightly at the force with which she chugged the drink, the way it stuck painfully in her throat for just a few seconds.

"You drink like a fucking man, Pans."

She slowly lifted and turned her head, a mischievous grin spreading across her full lips as she took in the lithe form of Draco Malfoy standing in the corner, phenomenally shirtless – Pansy thought to herself then that this was the best present of the day by far. She had hoped that he would show up at some point or another; maybe he would kiss her again, like he had two weeks ago when he couldn't get her to shut up and she'd ended up pressed against the crude brickwork of Hogwarts' walls with her skirt hiked up around her waist and Draco's hands in places they normally wouldn't be. Thinking about it she grinned broadly, and had she not been slightly drunk she might have blushed a little at the remembrance of his hands upon her skin, his lips hot and wet and demanding on her neck and cheek and her collarbone.

"Yeah? What a terrible thing for you to say. You drink like a fucking pussy," she told him, raising her dark eyebrows informatively. "But I don't go round saying that you do. Especially not on your birthday – it's simply cruel."

Draco gave her a look thoroughly devoid of any sympathy for her plight and she laughed a little, straightening up a little on the couch. She reached underneath the couch and pulled out a wine bottle she'd been keeping stashed just for this occasion. Pansy lifted it up by the neck and held it up in the air, biting her lower lip teasingly as her eyes moved back to his face.

"Want some?" she asked him coyly. "It's from my father's personal stores. I thought it would be a fitting birthday present from a father to his doting daughter when I took it."

"How insightful of you," Draco said smoothly, giving her a bit of a smirk. For a while she wondered if he wouldn't come over to her; sometimes when she flirted with him or played coy he would get annoyed and leave. Now, though, he seemed a bit interested, and Pansy smirked when he pushed himself away from the wall and walked over to her, joining her on the couch. Almost immediately he snatched the wine away from her, uncorking it in one fluid movement and drinking straight out of the bottle. She watched in awe as he downed the entire thing in just a few minutes, leaving only a few drops for her thirsty tongue. Pansy feigned disgust, wrinkling up her petite, freckled nose.

"You're a boor, Draco," she commented derisively.

He shrugged his shoulders, shifting on the couch and then easily sliding down so that his head rested in her lap. "You love it," he said matter-of-factly.

Pansy's slender fingers immediately found their way into his hair and she played with the white-blonde locks gently, tracing patterns of hearts and words of love gently on his scalp with the tender pads of her fingers. Draco scratched at his bare chest, sighing and closing his eyes, listening to the crackling of the fire and the rhythmic sound of her gentle breathing.

"I didn't get you a present, Pans," he told her after a long gap of silence between them. "I didn't think of it."

Pansy smiled a little, tugging playfully at his hair. "You prat," she mumbled.

Draco grinned and shifted so that he was lying on his side, his left hand touching her thigh where her milky-white skin disappeared and pale pink silk negligee began. His right hand thumbed her hipbone, making Pansy's body grow tense with that familiar want, that familiar _need _to be close to him. It intensified by tenfold when Draco's fingertips began to tease the hem of her negligee and Pansy's breath hitched in her throat. Draco noticed and grinned, opening one steely-gray eye to gaze up at her.

"You're always tense, Pan," he informed her, feigning something like concern. "Sometimes I think you've just got to find a way to loosen up. At least hire a masseuse."

"You know, it's funny," Pansy began softly, her voice barely above a whisper, just quiet breathlessness falling from her lips, "but massages just never seem to do the trick."

Draco grinned as his hand disappeared fully beneath the fabric of her negligee, and when his fingertips ghosted over the waistband of her lacy underwear Pansy all but melted and even though the contact wasn't where she needed it most she had to fight to bite back a whimper. Draco noticed it, too, and his other hand began to trail up and down her narrow side, feeling the tension building up in her body.

"How strange," he murmured, his voice heavy with want and raw lust. "Because I tend to find them – " his hand effortlessly slipped inside of her underwear and Pansy couldn't help but let out a sharp, quiet cry as two of his fingers entered her – "_very _relaxing."

Soon he was kissing her fiercely, pinning her beneath him on the couch, growling at the moans and squeals she emitted when he sucked fiercely on her throat and increased the speed of his fingers moving inside of her. Her negligee and underwear were gone in minutes; she quickly unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, and when her soft hand first wrapped around him he exhaled sharply, burying his face into the crook of her slender neck. This was how it always happened with them, although granted it had only happened a handful of times before. It was always _everything but_ when they were like this: rough kisses and stroking hands, but never the _but_. And that's why it was different now, when Pansy nipped at his earlobe and whispered, "I know what you can give me for my birthday."

Slowly Draco lifted his head to look at her with a certain…_concern,_ something she had never seen in him before – at least, never directed towards her – and his brow furled as he scanned her face, gray eyes clouded over by a heavy fog of lust. She didn't know why he took so long to respond; it seemed strange, because she was entirely certain that she was nothing but a notch on his bedpost and she knew that having sex was something he thoroughly enjoyed. She tilted her head at him, confusion in her pale blue eyes, trying to meet his gaze but finding it was moving to rapidly for her to hold. For a moment, Pansy was gripped with something like fear and humiliation combined, and she thought now that the evening was going to end with Draco Malfoy refusing to have sex with her. She thought about saying something, but she didn't know what she should say, what she _could _say.

But then it didn't matter anymore, because he shifted on top of her and soon he had pushed inside of her and she'd let out a loud cry of pain as something tore inside of her, her legs wrapping around his waist, her fingers digging into the muscled flesh of his back. He groaned when he was fully inside of her, wiping away the tears that had slipped from her eyes, pushing his fingers through her choppy dark hair and staying buried to the hilt without moving out. "Fuck, you're so tight," he rasped into her ear and Pansy moaned, loving the way his voice sounded and the harsh words they formed.

"Please," she whimpered desperately, squirming beneath him, trying to find the friction she knew would overwhelm the pain. "Draco…fuck me, _please._"

And so he did. His movements were slow first, and gentle, and when she started to roll her hips up to meet his thrusts he went faster, harder, deeper. She was writhing beneath him, whispering that he was perfect and that she wanted him and that no one could do to her the things he could. It was beautiful and ugly and dirty and sweaty and _wonderful, _and she cried out his name when she came, her whole body arching off of the bed, and he followed soon after, growling lowly as he pushed into her one last time and spilled deep inside of her.

When it was all over Pansy wanted nothing more than for it to happen all over again.

When they'd recovered and were no longer heaving from the exhaustion and the heat of their bodies had reached an equilibrium she watched him move down her body with a fond smile, nuzzling into the feeling of his hands as they took her waist. Draco kissed her bare, flat stomach, looking up at her with a wicked, devious smirk.

"Happy birthday, Pan."


End file.
